


Someone Will Love You (Let Me Go)

by rinnwrites



Series: Let Me Go [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Almost Civil War Compliant, Angst, Flashbacks, M/M, Pre-Slash, The Floating Car, Tony Fixing Bucky's Arm, for Tony & Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14122716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/pseuds/rinnwrites
Summary: Ghosts of sensation lurked in the periphery of his mind - rough hands at his waist, the cracked skin of overworked fingers dragging against his back, the smell of hot metal and the whir of technology far beyond his understanding.The whole thing was just all too familiar, the sights, the sounds, the clutter, the man.





	Someone Will Love You (Let Me Go)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I couldn't get out of my head. If it goes over well, I've already got another couple works in this verse in mind, so please leave some feedback if you like it!
> 
> Unbetaed, be kind <3

His eyes followed calloused hands, muscles flexing under sun-tanned skin, the wrist twisting in sure motions, controlling the wrench grasped tightly in those well worked hands. Ghosts of sensation lurked in the periphery of his mind - rough hands at his waist, the cracked skin of overworked fingers dragging against his back, the smell of hot metal and the whir of technology far beyond his understanding. 

The whole thing was just all too familiar, the sights, the sounds, the clutter, the man. 

Tony Stark tinkered with an old car in the middle of his workshop. Bucky had blanched and frozen as he recognized it from years ago, the very same bright red vehicle that had floated in the air up on stage, amazing everyone that could see. It shot him back to those days, that time, and so he stood in the doorway watching Tony work, not saying a word as the strange familiarity washed over him, eyes lingering on shiny red paint, a head of dark hair, and strong shoulders hunched over a project. He could almost believe…

“You just gonna stare?” Tony’s voice eventually rang out through the otherwise quiet workshop, his lack of a glance at Bucky told the supersolider that Tony’d known he was here all this time. 

He cleared his throat, a little bit shocked to be pulled from his reverie, and took a few steps forward. “The thumb is stuck again.” it was enough explanation for Tony to stop what he was doing, wiping the grease from his hands before he stood, leaving the car abandoned. Seeing it torn apart shouldn’t have hurt like it did.

Tony took his arm in hand without a word, turning it to see all angles of the offending appendage. “There’s something in this joint that hates me…” he grumbled, tugging Bucky by the prosthetic to settle at a workstation. 

Tony had created the new limb from scratch, without even the old arm as a guide, and managed to fit it with the infrastructure already embedded in Bucky’s shoulder. It had taken time, for the prototype to come to fruition, for Tony to stop looking at Bucky with that hatred in his eyes, for Bucky to stand near him without shaking...but they’d made it to this point. 

Coexistence. 

That was a miracle in and of itself after Siberia. Tony had learned of his parents fate at the hands of the Winter Soldier. His rage had cost Bucky’s HYDRA-crafted arm.

The aftermath of the battle was a blur, but somehow when the truth came out, those that had rallied behind Captain America were pardoned - the question of the Sokovia Accords lingered, but Bucky was free. Free to stand here and shuffle in his discomfort as tiny tools worked at mechanisms in his hand and his stormy eyes washed over Tony’s face, the little frown, the furrowed brow, all reaching out to him, a taunt of what wasn’t his. Not anymore.

A loud  _ pop!  _ brought Bucky’s attention back to his arm, a gentle sting running up his artificial nerve pathways to let him know there’d been damage to his hand. “Wha-?” he looked at Tony in shock as he saw that the thumb had been removed all together. 

“Calm down, I’ll give it back. I think we both know I’m incapable of leaving a broken prosthetic alone.” Tony countered quickly, walking away with the metal thumb in hand, only to place it in a glass compartment atop a machine that Bucky didn’t recognize. “Dried blood in the joint. That’ll polish it up and you’ll be good as new.” he explained with a shrug at the confused face staring back at him. “2.0 will be more...fluid resistant.”

With that, he wandered back over to the old car, picking up where he left off as Bucky resumed his staring, although the trance from before was broken. 

Bucky didn’t know how much time had passed before Tony spoke again, “If you’re going to hover, make yourself useful and hand me that.” he pointed without looking at a metal pan of nuts and bolts on the counter behind him, and unsure how else to proceed, Bucky stepped forward, picking it up with flesh fingers and handing it over to Tony’s outstretched hand. 

Now that he was up close with the car, Bucky let out a shaky breath, running fingers over the paint job, deliberately avoiding a glance into the interior where he knew soft black leather stretched over seats that didn’t lean back  _ quite  _ far enough. 

_ Soft giggles came from a face hidden behind hands before delighted brown eyes looked over at him.  _

_ “I don’t know why you’re laughing, they almost caught us.” Bucky groaned, a mischievous glint in his own eyes betraying the amusement he was hiding. He pulled himself up from the floorboards where they’d hastily hidden, running a hand through his short hair before tugging his companion up after him.  _

_ It was a sobering thought, but neither of them let their minds stray to what would have happened if the soldiers who’d just passed through the workshop had discovered the men in such a compromising position, shirtless, hair askew, and pressed desperately together as though they needed it like air. _

_ Instead they smiled stupidly at each other, gravitating together until they met in a sweet kiss, grease-stained hands caressing soft skin and strong fingers carding through dark hair.  _

_ Bucky sighed as kisses were trailed down his neck and shoulder, the man before him only stopping to grin up at him and say “Let them catch us. Tell everyone. I love you, Bucky Barnes.” _

_ “I love you.” he returned, a whispered prayer. A wish that this could last forever. _

_ The kisses continued down his chest and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, “Please, Howard.” _

“Barnes!” 

The warmth surrounding him evaporated at the voice that was just a little too deep to fit. 

“Barnes!”

He started, pulling his hand off the car’s surface and looking over to Tony, only realizing as he did so that there were tears running down his face. He turned his back to hide the state he was in, the memory still too real, still searing into his brain too vividly for him to discern the anger and confusion in Tony’s voice. 

“What the hell did you just say?” He asked, giving Bucky the feeling that it wasn’t the first time he’d voiced the question. 

“I’m sorry, I-” he faltered, not looking back at the man as he turned towards the door, fleeing in search of some much-needed privacy after the whirlwind of emotions that had just unfolded. 

 

*****

 

Tony looked after him, heart racing in confusion and the vestiges of anger. What the fuck was that?

_ Please, Howard. _

He’d heard the words fall from Barnes’s lips clear as day, words he’d heard before, from his mother, from Peggy Carter, from Hank Pym, a thousand others, but generally they were said with disdain or sarcasm. What he’d just heard was  _ reverent _ . 

Since Siberia, Tony had done his best to move on from Zemo’s revelation, channeling his anger into work, and letting a little bit of sense settle back into his mind. 

Truth be told, the all out brawl with Barnes and Cap had helped. The brunt of his anger was there in Cap’s broken ribs, his blackened eye, and mostly in the jagged metal stump at Barnes’s shoulder, the man divested of what made him the Winter Soldier, the arm that killed his parents, killed his mom. 

While none of the outward signs lasted, Tony clung to the expression of his anger, and it kept any more outbursts at bay. He and Barnes had even worked their way to a fragile peace, the attachment of a new arm, a Stark creation, symbolically refining an assassin - one who’d done nothing but take from him - into a man, an amputee whose life he could make better. For all his faults, that was what Tony wanted - to make people’s lives better, to make the world better. 

That was the one great thing that Tony had gotten from his father. He’d realized as he reflected on his parents’ deaths with with the clarity of truth, that behind it there was  _ meaning.  _ Perhaps he hadn’t been entirely successful, but Howard Stark had died trying to make this world a better place. The realization had been a grudging one at first, but over time Tony had found a way to draw comfort from it. 

His new outlook on losing his father was what had drawn Tony to have this car brought out of storage. There were plenty of unfinished projects, but this one had always been special to Howard, even if he’d never gotten around to making it really work. It had lived in the man’s workshop for as long as Tony could remember, only packed away years ago out of a young man’s grief for his parents.

Finishing the car felt like the only way for Tony to connect with his father again, and if he let his mind play into the cliche of a boy fixing up a car with his Dad...well what harm was there in that?

Still reeling, Tony stood from where he was crouched, unable to focus on the task at hand. He ran his fingers over the car’s glittering red finish, laying a palm flat where Barnes’s had been moments ago, and that was when he saw it, inside the dark interior, the light filtering through the windows illuminated the corner of a piece of paper sticking out of the glove box. 

Tony walked around the car and opened the door, placing himself in the passenger seat and opening the compartment to find letters. Stacks of letters, envelopes made of sturdy paper, yellowed with their age, each addressed to one Howard Stark in small, tight letters. 

After thoroughly wiping his hands on his shirt and jeans, Tony picked up the first of the letters, opening it to reveal the words inside. 

> _ Howard,  _
> 
> _ The nights have gotten cold, but spirits are high. We take steps closer to our goal everyday and my only regret is those steps taking me so far from home... _

It went on to provide anecdotes of a soldier’s time with his men, things he’d seen, people he’d met, and as it went on, Tony realized that this was a love letter, one written with the subtlety of a gay man of the 1940s, ever wary of being exposed. 

The existence of the letters was a shock in itself, but more so was the jolt Tony got from the end of the page.

_ Yours,  _

_ Bucky  _

 

And suddenly it all slid into place like the joints of his suit fitting together in perfect harmony.   
  


 

*****

 

Alone in his room at the Avengers compound, Bucky paced. The tears from his earlier moment down in the workshop were long gone and he berated himself for the slip-up. The memories came like that sometimes, pulling him into a dreamworld and not letting go until they’d run their course. But nothing had felt quite so vivid before, he’d never felt so lost in a memory and he’d never wanted so badly to  _ stay _ .

Bucky’s relationship with Howard was, to this day, between the two of them. Assuming no one had discovered it and kept the secret, Bucky was the only person alive who knew, and perhaps it was something he should share with Tony, especially after that incident, but he’d done enough to the billionaire without tarnishing the man’s memory of his father by exposing what he was, what  _ they  _ were.

Besides, how much liberty did Bucky have to miss Howard, to ache with longing for a man that he’d  _ murdered _ ?

It was ironic that in his darkest days of the war, he’d told himself that eventually he’d get Howard killed, they’d be found out, both of them, and it would be the end. It terrified him, but there had been something  _ so right _ in every touch of his hand and brush of his lips and Bucky couldn’t resist. There wasn’t anything Howard could have asked for the Bucky wouldn’t freely give. 

Given the chance, he’d still give that man the world. 

It was after he gave up on pacing and wearily sank down onto the edge of his mattress that Bucky heard steps in the hallway, FRIDAY giving him a quick warning that he had company before the door opened and Tony unceremoniously strode into the room.

Bucky pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, only then realizing that his thumb was still missing, and perhaps - if he was lucky - Tony was just returning it, and not trying to make sense of their strange interaction from before. 

“I found something that I think you should have.” It was said plainly, maybe with a tinge of sadness, but no anger. Looking up, Bucky saw that it wasn’t his thumb, but a stack of letters. 

He was hit with a realization and the blood rushed from his face as he made out Howard’s name in his own handwriting scrawled across the top envelope. 

“I-” Bucky stopped. He didn’t have words for this. What did one say in this situation? What did Tony even know?

He was saved asking the question as Tony cleared his throat and moved further into the room, turning the chair by the window around so he could sit and face Bucky. 

“You loved him.”

There was a pop from his neck, Bucky’s head shot up so fast, alarm and terror shaping his face into a grimace. The letters were subtle, but Tony was an actual genius, so of course he’d extrapolated that detail, but Bucky still didn’t have any words. 

“He loved you, too.”

Even in this situation, the words made his heart flutter, Howard  _ had _ loved him. But… “How do you know that?” he shot back without malice, and Tony’s stoic expression melted into something soft, concerned, maybe even a little fond. 

“I don’t think he ever stopped.” Tony sighed, “He talked about Steve all the time when I was a kid, but never more than a sentence about you. I think he was keeping you to himself, your memory. Never did let me touch that car, but it lived in his workshop until the day…” he coughed to cover a break in his voice, “..the day he died.” 

Tony was picking at the fabric of his jeans, not daring to look into Bucky’s eyes, for the simple fear of what he could possibly see there. It was the same way Howard avoided difficult interactions, and Bucky’s heart ached the way it did every time this beautiful genius reminded him of the one he’d once called his own. 

“That was our place.” came Bucky’s reply, this voice scratchy and barely above a whisper. “When we wanted to escape the world, to be ourselves...we had to hide. Different times.” he added with a shrug, “The car was a safe haven.”

It almost broke Tony’s heart to see him so bare, even as the realization struck him - the depth of Barnes’s regret for what had happened to his parents, what HYDRA had done. It was only in that moment that Tony could really see him, James Barnes, not a soldier, but a man who’d been torn apart and forced to kill the one he loved. 

Tony stood, taking the few steps over to the edge of the bed, and rested a hand on the shoulder of flesh and bone, “It wasn’t your fault.” he said quietly, rewarded immediately with stormy blue eyes gazing up at him in wonder, as though those words were the release from anguish that he’d been searching for for so long, and maybe they were. 

A broken sob fell from his lips and Bucky stood, surprising them both as he wrapped his arms around Tony, pulling the smaller man to his chest in an embrace. He’d heard it before, over and over again, from everyone that knew him, but from Tony, it was different. 

From Tony, those words felt like forgiveness. Like absolution. Like freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> The original rambling of my mind that led to this fic:
> 
> Bucky and Howard had a secret love affair in the back seat of that levitating car, and Tony reminds Bucky of his departed lover with every movement, every word, and that alone is excruciating, never mind the fact that Bucky had killed the man he loved with his own hands. No one regrets what happened to the Starks more than Bucky does, maybe as much, but certainly not more.


End file.
